


By your hand

by TheHuskyDragon



Series: We’re all going forward/none of us are going back [17]
Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Consensual Violence, Depression, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Instability, Metaphors, Murder, Nightmares, Obsession, POV Change, Temporary Character Death, Unrequited Love, Vague mentions of sex, also nonconsentual murder! thats a thing, but... consentual, im so tired, messing with formatting w this lol, tfw u love ur bf so much you let him play with your guts a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23932036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuskyDragon/pseuds/TheHuskyDragon
Summary: He has two choices
Relationships: BB-28 | Louise & Higgs Monaghan, BB-28 | Louise & Sam Porter Bridges, Fragile & Higgs Monaghan, Sam Porter Bridges & Amelie Strand, Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan
Series: We’re all going forward/none of us are going back [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551493
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	By your hand

**Author's Note:**

> fuck!!!! after not uploading for uh. a month or so here's ! this!! part 1 of 3 of the end of this fic! ill explain more of whats to come of this series when we get to the end. first Higgs has to lose his mind first
> 
> title is a song by los campesino
> 
> I hope the pov change isn't too jarring! if I wasn't planning to add it in for a while I would have kept the pov. there are also direct and indirect references to Richard siken's "snow and dirty rain"
> 
> Also mild tw: there's a brief dream that Higgs has where mekal is seriously injured and more or less dying before he wakes up. there's little detail but its toward the end

Sand crunches under red heels.  _ Crunch… crunch… crunch.  _

“You see, Higgs, we can finish the extinction… we can be together again. Don’t you want that?”

He looks out across the water. Clear blue skies at the horizon, the water fresh and clean. When the heels step back into his vision they’re gray. He can’t bring himself to look up. 

“ _ Please _ Higgs? It’ll be different than last time. We don’t have to kill anyone before the end. We can do it  _ your  _ way.”

“He doesn’t have to listen to you, Amelie. Won’t you just fucking leave us alone?”

_ Sam! Oh, it was Sam!! _ Higgs would’ve jumped up and hugged Sam— if he could  _ move _ . He felt as solid as a rock, stuck kneeling in the damp, gray sand. 

Amelie’s dress was red again, so, so stark against the sky. “Humans need to be  _ together _ . The way the world is— it’s not fit for survival, Sam. You know this. Nobody can survive separated like that. The extinction can  _ help _ .”

He turns to Sam, he’s in his underclothes, his whole a monochromatic blue. His hair hangs loosely over his face. The dream catcher hangs low against his chest, “We’re connected as much as we need to be, the chiral network is working now. Everything’s  _ fine _ .”

She turns to Higgs, “Don’t you get it, Higgs? We’re too incomplete, we can’t enjoy everything as apart as we are—“

“ _ You _ don’t count as  _ we _ ,” Sam cuts in, “you weren’t ever there for  _ any  _ of us. You’ve lied to everyone about everything, fucked everyone’s lives up.”

Amelie lays Her hand where Her quipu would be, “I didn’t want to, Sam, it was to keep you safe!”

“ _ Safe _ my ass. Look what fucking happened to us. You know what shit you put me through, put  _ Higgs  _ through?” Sam spits, pointing a finger at the man in question. ”I can’t think of a single person by name that isn't messed up from anything you’ve done,”

Higgs grits his teeth. 

“I didn’t want to… I did it for the best… I’ve seen what’s happened up to now, and I  _ know  _ what’ll happen in the future— what’s best for everyone is if the extinction takes place. It’s so simple.”

This can’t be real… it’s not real. _ It’s all in his head. It’s so simple. It’s so simple. It’s so simple. No it’s— no it’s not. This isn’t real. It isn’t simple.  _

“What does it  _ matter  _ if it’s simple? It’s better to live life to its fullest.”

“Isn’t it?” Higgs whispers to himself. He stares into the sand. He’s naked, knees together, skin clear of scars and repatriation marks. 

What would be better? If he ended it all now, everyone’s pain would be over, they’d all  _ ascend _ , be better off… but… there’s still so much to experience… so much Higgs hasn’t gotten a chance to feel ~~taste smell see~~

“Higgs,” Amelie calls, desperation in Her voice. It sounds like She’s just next to him but he can’t _lift his head_ , “you can change this; you have the ability to end it all, to make everyone _happy_.”

Amelie is more powerful than he is. Higgs is Her pawn. She never needed him. 

_No one_ needs him, has ever wanted him… not Daddy, not Fragile… certainly not Amelie or Sam…

“Higgs—“ Sam starts. He’s calm but he sounds so far away. “You can change this. You don’t _have_ to make everyone happy. You aren’t here to please everyone— anyone.”

He can change this. _He can change this._ He doesn’t have to be Her pawn— he can stay with him. Isn’t that what he’s always wanted? To be free, someone’s lover?

  
  
  
  
  


Somewhere, you’ve read in a book about the hedgehog dilemma. You didn’t pay much attention to it when you first heard of it. 

It explains how two hedgehogs are desperate for contact, for warmth, perhaps, in a frigid winter. The issue is that they can’t get too close or they’ll hurt each other with their spines. They can’t avoid the pain, but they will also freeze in the cold. They’re forced to choose the pain of being too close, or too far away. How do you solve this?

You never really _got_ it. It’s two hedgehogs, you said, it’s a stupid metaphor. 

Sam has always had an intense aversion to contact, you’ve gotten to know that _quite_ well before he’d completed the network. Even then, it ramps up at times. It’s _unbearable_. It hurts every second to be apart from him, even if both of you are inches apart. You want to be connected to him in any way for the rest of time. It makes your skin itch, your heart hurt so, so bad. Sam is your world, you wouldn’t be able to function without him. You can’t bear to think of living without him. It makes you so happy when he does such simple things, coming into the room, initiating contact, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss into your body. He doesn’t have to. _Honey would you like some more?_

~~ Yes , of course ~~

You’re thinking _This is where we live. We can do anything_ , he says. _My dragonfly, my black-eyed fire…_ how can you tell him that the knives in the kitchen are singing for blood? That your powers grow weaker everyday? You itch for it, like there’s an empty chasm in your belly _begging_ for it, begging for man’s blood on your hands— in your mouth, under your fingernails— The temptation to plunge a blade into his heart grows. He’ll come back. _He’ll come back._ Will you be saying that when he doesn’t?

_Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you?_ It can only go bad from here, you’ve royally fucked everything up for everyone. It’s all your fault! And he’ll leave you now because of what you’ve done. He hates you now. _Goodbye, goodbye._

Yet he’s _still here_. You tell him to leave. He says _Why would I? I love you._ Your face grows wet. _Do you simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it?_

Voices mix into one, who's who? You’re not sure. 

~~ You can change this ~~

You have that ability— _you do. You really do._

Shit’s already fucked as it is. 

  
  
  
  


Your head is clutched in your hands, against the gray sand. It smells like the sea when grains of sand stick to your skin. ~~What constitutes as a grain ?~~

They’re still talking _Higgs, chose. It’s your choice. Listen to me, no me. I mean the best._ Red against blue. 

You find you can’t— _stand_ her voice. It grates against your ears and feels like it’s shredding your skin. But… _His_ voice… it could lull you into the deepest sleep, relax you in an instant. You could hear him read a grocery list and you’d still be head over heels. 

You want to hold him close… never let him go. That’s all you want. Hold a piece of him inside you. 

~~ You can choose that . You can change this ~~

You have a stick and a rope. You can keep away bad with the stick, and reel in good with the rope. 

Well, couldn't you be both?—

Well, couldn’t she be the stick?—

Well, couldn’t he be the rope?—

Fuck. You don’t know at this point. You can’t fucking tell. _You can choose that_ — shut it won’t you?

Your breath hiccups against the sand. You can taste the sea on your tongue. 

  
  
  
  


You learn early on how _versatile_ hands are. That’s perhaps the first thing daddy taught you. They can hurt, they can soothe, grab/pull push/shove, you have the ability to choose what. 

Choose to reciprocate— choose another path. 

Your hands grip tight to the knife that sinks in to rough skin. Flesh tearing, blood spraying, voice screaming. Blood _everywhere_ , staining everything, hands, fabric, skin, hair, everything around you. Maybe daddy’ll come back just like you do, maybe he’ll be okay, he’ll be angry, furious, sure, beat you black and blue—

Your hands glide over rough— no, smooth skin, mottled with handprints. He’s sweaty, you both are, and it doesn’t stop for a while. He smells so good, feels so good. Every grip, trail pulls a gasp from Him. It’s not in pain, not really, He pulls closer to you when you ask if He’s okay. Yeah, I’m— it feels good. Keep going.—

Gloved hands, protected against the rain, grip the case to the bomb. You push-shove it into her grip. She didn’t deserve this— her body shivering before she’s even in the rain. The look of betrayal in her eyes. You barely think twice about breaking her umbrella, fingers crushing delicate machinery inside—

After that you never thought you’d hold a baby, your chances with a family ruined. But— holding such a tiny child, babbling mindlessly as she chews on anything she can. Tiny hands against yours… your breath hitches as she looks up at you, wide doe-eyes so forgiving… after-after what you’ve done—

—fingers digging into sand— into flesh— into dirt— into—

Fingers—

— hands—

… — your hands— doing _this_ — doing _that_ — does it ever stop—?

—“I’m afraid it doesn’t.” She says. She’s got a smile on her face despite the tears streaming from her eyes. She’s not sad, the chiral density has risen, you can tell yourself. “The nightmares? Stuck with anyone who has any DOOMS.”

You scoff, but smile a bit back at her. Rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes you say, “here I thought Daddy was the worst nightmare,”

That makes her brow crease, worry pulling at her features. “Well— I'm here for you, if that helps.” You love her smile. 

“It does. A lot.”

  
  
  
  


You swear there’s only _one_ of those rat BTs. They all look the same if there's multiple. You’ve _also_ seen Mekal obviously kill the thing, it’s body spasming before going limp, sort of melting as he walks away. What he does with it, you aren’t sure. 

  
  
  
  


“Humans evolve differently— well, maybe I should say they respond to things differently. It’s not your fault for reacting to something one way, that’s the way you’ve grown, there’s only so many ways to change. You grow used to it or you don’t. 

“But no matter how many years, times people change, everyone has something in common: it’s not possible to live without contact. Maybe you could _survive_ a whole life without feeling the warmth of another’s skin, but that isn’t _living_. To live is to _feel_ , to _love_ , to _experience_. Why _wouldn’t_ you want it? It’s okay to be scared, that’s part of living too. You don’t always have to be brave.”

  
  
  
  


“Oh— Sammy…” you choke up. The cabin he built— it’s amazing. Wonderful. You hope to live the rest of eternity here with Him. Dark walls and carpet, a few gold accents. Mekal spread out against the couch. You turn ~~with your arms open to fall into His embrace, but he suddenly dissolves the second you come into contact You fall to the ground—~~

“I’m glad you like it,” He says with a grin pulling at his features, you walk out of the doorway, feeling along a shelf, the soft couch. Oh, you could kiss His face all day if he let you, you want your lips to memorize His features until they go numb. ~~You walk over to kiss Him, eyes closed—~~

He’s suddenly behind you, walking past the furniture toward the kitchen, “it wasn’t that hard to build either. Uh, Deadman and Heartman helped a lot.”

You- “- didn’t help?”

He opens a cupboard, closes it softly, “but if there’s anything you wanna change, I’d be happy to do it. Come look at the bed.” _It’s perfect, why would you want to change anything?_

The bed is massive, seeming like a million times bigger than anything you’ve had. You honest-to-god sob when you first lay on it. You sink into the mattress, the covers plush, soft, warm, heavy. 

You pull Sam on top of you, “do one more thing for me?”

“What’s that?” He says. It looks like you could say anything and he’d do it. He’s smiling, _really_ smiling. Because of _you. He loves you. He really does._

“Fuck me. Make love to me.” On _your_ bed. In _your_ house. On _your_ time. Sam cups your cheek, sl ~~owly leaning down unt~~

  
  
  
  


You open your eyes. Your hands are in a puddle of tar, everything around you is black despite the fact you’re able to see perfectly. 

Your head raises as a warbling moan echoes through the air. Your eyes widen and a gasp pulls from your mouth. It’s Mekal, struggling to stand. He’s— it looks like he’s _melting_ , tar dripping off his body and trailing toward you. Chunks slog off until golden bones reveal. He lifts his head and calls out, pain clear in the bellow. His limbs shake as his legs collapse under him, falling hard on his hip, tail smacking against the ground. You’re at his side in an instant, trying to hold the large animal in your arms. This is all your fault this is all your fault this is all your fault—

He looks up at you, mask slowly melting away

  
  
  
  
  


You jolt awake, nearly colliding your head with Sam’s. You’re crying too, chest heaving to bring in enough oxygen to starved lungs. 

“Where is he? Where is—“ you cry, clutching at the hands holding your shoulders— so tight, so warm—

“Who, Higgs? Who—“

“Mekal!” You try to pull out of his grip with no avail, “ _where is he?_ ”

Sam looks to the side, finally letting go of you. Suddenly Mekal comes into view, face solid, body whole. He bumps his face into your chest, your heart rate quickly calming. _He’s alive, he’s alive_. You wrap your arms around his head as tentacles envelope your body, a sob falling from your lips. 

“What the fuck happened?” Sam asks. It’s rare for you to be so broken by your nightmares, but they’re happening more frequently. The covers shift to pull around your shivering body. Ah, you’re in your house, _the cabin_ , soft covers whisking away the aftershocks of the nightmares. Mekal settles on the bed as Sam sidles up beside you, also under the covers. You pull him down to the pillows, warm between two of the most important beings to you. If Lou wasn’t sleeping in her crib, it’d be perfect, your whole world in your grasp, around you. You hope you didn’t wake her up. 

You don’t know, but you’ve been having the same dreams, one of the pieces of your world falling apart in your grasp, a sinking feeling; _it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault._

And it’s always Sam saving you, losing sleep, kept awake by your sobbing. You have no reason to cry, to be so worried like that. You have everything you want, a full family and a full belly. You don’t deserve to get sad. You don’t remember what the dream was about. 

It’s amazing what Sam has fallen in love with. You’ll never know, never be able too. Sam will never know the version of him you’ve made either. To Sam, you’re ethereal, capable of anything you put your mind to. Tall, handsome, life easily told by the scars you wear on your body, the way you hold yourself. You’ve gone through so much, you’re so strong. 

And Sam… you think you could write a novel about everything you love about Him— there’s a whole list. His messy long hair, sharp, yet tired blue eyes. The way His mouth feels on your body, teeth pressing in, in, in. His shivers when you touch just the right way. Large, calloused and rough hands, how they can hold so strong and so soft, carrying you with strong muscles, carrying Lou like she’ll break any second. How His skin smells, tastes after He does something worth effort. Muscles flexing, tendons pulling tight. 

His gruff voice, His smile. The groves of His teeth when you drag your fingers over them, the way He gags when you prod too deep. His squishy tongue between your fingers, slippery with His saliva. The color of the handprints— you want them to be yours, caused by _you_ — His grunts when He cums, hums off-tune to whatever song is playing. You say you hate it, that it sounds bad. You hope He’ll never stop. 

The way He shies away when you step a little too close, too daunting. Looking up beneath His lashes and hair, face reddening to His ears. One bitten off, uneven dark scar tissues. You love licking it. You want to bite off the other one. The way His guts feel when you spread your fingers, the stab wound stretching. So soft, squishy, gross slick noises pulling forth, the strong stretch of his blood permeating the air. 

He doesn’t let you do things like that often, obviously, but when He _does_ … ohh… you try to drag it out, make it as painless as possible. It’s quite hard, cutting a man open certainly smarts like a bitch. Once, you hold His heart, feeling the beating grow weaker… weaker. You lick the tar He throws up afterward. You can’t resist licking your fingers clean, His blood tingles the skin of your mouth, down your throat till it warms your stomach. 

It makes you feel alive. This is what you live for, you think. Sam; taking His life to be able to be there when He repatriated. Watching another handprint appear. _How exhilarating!_ The tired look in His eyes when He sees you, a smile appearing. 

No matter how many times you do it, you still feel exhausted later. As in, barely able to keep your eyes open, slurring your words tired. It’s not all the time, but when it hits, it _hits_. 

You’re told to start wearing the mask again. You do, but… it only helps so much. You swear your dreams turn wild if you wear it to sleep. It takes any energy you might’ve had for the next day. It's not like you have anything to do. Sam said he plans on retiring soon, and you’re tempted to follow with. He’s deserved it.. and… you’d like to think you’ve earned it too. If there’s one thing he’ll deliver, it’s a big warm pizza… the smell drifts throughout the house until it’s gone. _You don’t want this to change._

**Author's Note:**

> higgs-the-god is my tumblr go yell at me to draw and write more!!
> 
> keep social distancing yall
> 
> dropping a kudos and comment help a whole lot and can guarantee a sooner update!! i spilt water all over my desk editing this. yall see the shit I go thru?


End file.
